The Prince and the Brain
by LadyCerise1891
Summary: If Vegeta was going to be stuck on Earth, he was not going to do so with the screeching creature moping over the loss of her partner. It would not do. Three years of waiting for the rise of the androids was not going to br spent with her in a pathetic mood. One-Shot. Set during the three year gap.
1. How It Began

_A/N: Just an idea that kicked around in my head since I've been on a DBZ kick. Don't hate me. I tried. One-Shot for now. Reviews are my crack. Much love from this cheese ball writer._

How It Began

It all started with a breakup. That was what Vegeta could gather. She was sniffling like a child, because of a breakup.

He considered making a snide comment. The boy had clearly been an unfit choice to begin with. Weak in body, mind and spirit, as far as he could suss out. Truly, she should be grateful it was over.

Still, he kept these thoughts to himself. Since, after all, they'd broken up more than once over the years from his understanding. He watched idly as she continued her show before turning back and moving toward the training simulator.

She was none of his concern unless she was needed for repairs. That was all. Still, as the days wore on, her listless behaviour only increased.

She put on a good show. Did her make-up, coiffed her hair and dressed as garishly as ever. It didn't change the fact that instead improving her equipment, as she had done nearly every chance she got since he was abandoned on the retched planet, she would simply repair. Instead of trying to get a rise out him, she tossed off mended armour or newly synthesised battle suits.

His stay in Capsule Corp, however beneficial to his training, had grown utterly dull. All because of a breakup. The concept baffled him.

"Explain the whole thing to me, woman." She pulled her head from the depths of the gravity generator, face smudged and dusty, and considered him with dim curiosity. "The idea behind this partnership you had been in with the one called Yamcha. It seems to begin and end rather effortlessly. Why are you so," he paused as he tried to find an accurate substitute for "pathetic" that would get him answers and not incur her wrath, "Distressed?"

She blinked and sighed. "Cause it's over this time, Vegeta. For what it's worth, it's over." She violently wrenched a bolt tighter inside the device. "10 years of bitter fighting and good times donezo."

"Your mother has commented on the frequency of such events."

Bulma chuckled darkly, but refused to meet his eyes. "Of course she did. You know, I grew up kind of sheltered. My parents are so trusting they're practically begging to be taken advantage of. Then they went and passed on they're nativity to me."

"You're babbling."

"I'm voicing my thoughts, tough guy. Helps me work through them sometimes. You should try it once in a while."

He scoffed, but gently toed her thigh when she ignored him and went back to her repairs. "You haven't answered my question."

"He doesn't want to grow up." She huffed as she pulled away from her work, once more. "He wants to stay where he is. Honestly, I'm not even sure if he takes training seriously. There were days when I would watch him and I could see him wishing it was just Pu'ar and him in a gang, again."

Vegeta felt irritation crawl under his skin as the similarities fell into place. "You have a habit of surrounding yourself with bad decisions."

She laughed, but it was hollow sounding. "Yeah. I'm aware, but even though we're done now, that doesn't mean he and I won't be friends. In fact, I bet we'll be better for it!" She instantly lost the enthusiasm that had managed to eek into her voice. "When we start talking, again, I guess."

She burrowed back into the device, conversation clearly done. Vegeta was not satisfied, though. He had little less then three years with this woman. If it were to be bearable at all, she needed to be in top form.

"It was probably your shrieking voice."

She nearly dropped the box of cereal she'd been retrieving. "Excuse me?"

He finished a bite of omelette before repeating, "your voice. I imagine that's why Yamcha finally finished it. I, personally, only find it immensely grating. I cannot fathom how horrific it sounded to his ears after hearing it for over a decade."

She stared at him for a moment, hand frozen as it reached for a bowl. Huffing, cheeks reddening, she dropped her hand and gritted her teeth. He thought he'd made a chink in her devoid mood, but she simply sighed. Her ire dropped and she chose to forego a bowl. Box of sugary cereal in hand, she left the kitchen.

"It's not the most traditional way to a woman's heart."

He grunted in return to Mrs. Briefs' misguided consoling. With a renewed vigour, he consumed the omelette before him, and the six others the older woman prepared with an odd glee.

He considered that Bulma may have been right about her parents' nativity. From what he could gather, they were aware of all the events that had led to him staying at the Capsule Corp compound. They were aware, and yet treated him like a guest of honour.

A facility filled to the brim with geniuses and the only ones afraid of him were the grunt workers.

"I've patched up the armour you've been wearing. I have a replacement being developed to match the specs." She fingered the material, but in the end simply passed the chest piece off to him. "Should be done in a couple of days."

"Your hair."

She paused before the door to his borrowed chambers could close. "Is that all you got?"

He scowled and looked down at repair work she'd done. The armour was a newer model she'd handed off months ago without a word or thought but had left babbling about improvements to made as she'd left. That was pre-breakup.

"I could kill that mortal."

She turned slightly, considering him. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Do I need a reason? I am a trained killing machine from a race of blood thirsty mercenaries. Finishing him off would be child's play."

"Well, I suppose that's appropriate." She smirked but dropped it as quickly as it had come. "Don't kill him. You heard what Goku said, all you meatheads are needed for what's to come."

With that she left him. He didn't see her again until she was dragging him out of the training simulator. She hauled him to the infirmary, noisily and sloppily.

"Stupid, pigheaded," she grunted as she manhandled him onto a cot. "You aren't light, you know. No matter the gravity setting. You sayians are so dense. Physically and mentally."

He could barely keep his eyes open, but he caught glimpses of her bandaging him up. She called help to get him into a proper bed and hook him up with IVs and to monitors. Then, like always, she stayed.

"I don't like it."

She was startled away from her notes by his sudden rasp. "The bed? Well, tough luck, bucko. You're stuck here until I say otherwise. We've finally managed to concoct a painkiller that'll knock you clean out, and I have the button."

She waved a little device in her hand, her bravado only a fraction of what it could have been. "The bed is sufficient. I'm referring to your moping. I can't stomach it."

"I have not been moping."

"You've been moping. Just apologise to the damn fool so we can regain some normalcy."

She stared at the device in her hands. "Well, I hate to break it you, but despite my many faults I was not the one broken up with. I ended things."

"You've wilfully plunged us into this level of hell. What is wrong with you, woman?"

She huffed and rested her chin in her hand. "Not that I would expect you to understand, but we were done for a while. Since before you came along, honestly. We'd been stagnant for years, looking for any sort of drama to liven things up." She shrugged and finally met his gaze. "I can't pretend that I don't want more, you know?"

Vegeta knew. He could smell it on her. She was primed for something that he was more than aware the earthling would never give her.

"I knew he was an inadequate mate."

She threw her hands the air. "Men! Life is just one giant pissing contest with you lot."

She stood so forceful, her chair squeaked a few inches back. "And I knew that armour was garbage. I told you a new breast plate would be ready in a couple of days. You just couldn't wait, could you?"

She took the opportunity of his weakened state and slapped him on the chest with as much force as she could muster. He grunted in surprise as a slight sting was left in her wake. She smirked down at him, triumphant.

"When I say I have new armour coming, I mean I have new armour coming." She laughed. "Now you have to wait even longer, because I got bored waiting on you to roll your princely ass into the lab to get it. I trashed it and have started a new model all together. Sucks to suck."

She marched out, clearly pleased with herself for getting the final word in. It wasn't so much that he didn't have a comeback for the spoiled woman, no he had several primed and waiting to be unleashed. No, something had been rattled loose in his battle hardened mind. A comment Kakarot had carelessly thrown her way.

"Oh, and congratulations, Bulma."

A throw away phrase that could have meant virtually anything given her considerable brain and accomplishments. But, the idiot earth male she'd been copulating with had gone and made that ridiculous joke. Vegeta had sensed it then, her quick consideration of the male and other viable candidates. He'd known she'd crunched the numbers, somehow already annoyingly tuned in to some of her more subtle habits.

She wanted an heir. She wanted to produce an heir and she had, in mere moments calculated that the idiot was not an option. If only for a moment, she'd snuck a glance his way.

He seethed. She'd ousted the incompetent earthling because he truly wasn't a viable mate. Armed with this knowledge he was left him considering, possibly too much, about her glance his way.

"You're brooding." She interrupted his musings as she entered with a heavily ladened food service cart. "You'll get wrinkles."

"Impossible, you vain simpleton. Sayians stay in their prime state a good twenty some years beyond you earthlings. I won't show signs of ageing until your well into your grey years."

She chewed her lip over this new information, but seemed unsurprised. "That makes sense. Goku seemed to have started slowing down once he hit his late teens."

"Kakarot and you are close."

She shrugged and manoeuvred pillows to cushion him as he sat up to eat. "I've known him since I was 16. Guess that would make people pretty close." She chuckled to herself, and he gritted his teeth at its pathetic tone. "I was pretty selfish with him when we were younger. I had to really humble myself once he managed to make friends of his own and start going his own way."

She sighed and watched him with a haunted smile on her lips. "Chi Chi is one lucky woman. Can't deny that."

With that, she left him to his meal. He considered her retreating figure, noticing, not for the first time that it was pleasing. This time, he realised, was not with detached assessment as he had done in days passed. Now it was in search of potential.

"Damned woman."

He was released from the infirmary the next day, not bothering to wake Bulma from her slumber as she kept guard in bedside chair. Upon reaching his quarters, he found a new set of battle suits and chest plate awaiting him. The fabric of the suit a fraction thinner, and armour marginally more flexible.

He changed mechanically, hearing her shrieking at his disregard for his own health already ringing in his ears. Making his way through the compound, he trekked the route to the simulation chamber by memory with closed eyes. Everything was as he had left it, it seemed, until his eyes found a bottle and note on the consul.

"Hey Moron, at least take some pain meds when you're done killing yourself. You asshole. Sincerely, the only person who seems to give a damn about you."

He scoffed and threw the note and bottle to the side. Choosing his training specs for the simulator, he considered the gift. Grunting in resignation, he knew he'd take them.

"It'll be preferable to her screeching. She's probably counted the doses."

He knew the truth. He would take them because it would please her. It would stroke the delicate ego he knew was comparable to his own at its heights. He would take them and stomach her fretting, all because of a damn breakup.


	2. How It Worked

The first night Bulma came, Vegeta was so stunned he didn't even think of turning her away. He had been mulling over the idea of taking her as partner. Then in her usual way, she'd plowed forward, disarmed him with her candour and taken the question out of his hands.

"You're attractive. I'm attractive." She sidled up to him and gently placed her hands on his abdomen. "I don't see why two attractive, available people can't take advantage of a situation."

Her hands then travelled up his chest and began messaging his neck. He could have cast her off. He'd intended to string things out until she was begging, not propositioning.

Still, there she was. She was covered in grease, clearly having come from working on some project or another. She smelled of oil, sweat and arousal. It was heady and he found himself pulling her closer.

Her utter abandon to the act was almost distracting. He was used to simply taking. Her inherent giving personality created a scenario he had not anticipated. It was almost addictive.

Then, when he was sure she would be a simpering mess after, she left. She took a beat to compose herself, and then she left. He stared after her as she dressed and walked out with out another word.

He tried to not seek her out in the months that followed. Yet, there was a newer sort of charge to their intersections. Everything was baited with acknowledged sexual tension, making it near impossible to ignore.

"Woman." She huffed angrily and looked up form the aircraft she'd been tinkering with. "A word."

"Sesame."

With that she returned her focus to the engine. He could see her self satisfied smirk. He waited a beat before hovering to be face to face. She continued her work as if he weren't there.

"You're very proud of that joke, aren't you?" She shrugged but gave no other response. "Repairs need to be made to the energy spheres. Not all of them are functioning."

"I'll get to it when I get to it."

He sneered. She lifted her head and levelled a challenging smirk his way. That encounter was entirely his doing, but he couldn't muster the desire to berate himself.

Their brief moments of intimacy, though distracting, where too enticing to ignore. Her difficult personality was only complimented by her intelligence. She seemed to know exactly how to entrap him into getting exactly what she wanted. What he was most frustrated to find was that he wanted it as well.

"Are you joining me tonight?" She looked up from the mechanics journal she was reading. "Woman?"

She looked up at him. Her eyes were glazed over and she was observing him like she did a malfunctioning machine. Finally she heaved a sigh and returned her focus to the booklet in her lap.

"I'm pregnant."

He considered this. It was a likely outcome of their activities. She'd never shown any concern of such an event.

"And?"

She shrugged and tossed the book aside. "I'm comfortable here."


	3. How It Ended

_A/N: This is legit the end for now. If I continue to write for this arch it will be in another mini-multichapter story. Again, I tried. Thanks for reading. Much love from this cheeseball author._

How It Ended

He gave her a wide birth when she was incubating the beast. Her blasé nature regarding carrying his child made it easier. She seemed to be taking a front of simply not caring about the change her life was careening toward.

"I don't expect anything, Vegeta." She shrugged as she finished the repairs to the capsule. "We had fun. It's whatever. You have your training and I'll have him."

Then she had walked off and he was satisfied. He had thought he was, that is. Then the cub had been born. He had finished a three day intensive training interval when he had entered the kitchen see her cooing over the tiny half breed.

"His name is "Trunks," in case were wondering." She babbled and giggled. "We're going back to the infirmary soon, trust me. He can't be out of the hospital wing for too long just yet. The doctor said his odd lineage made him sturdier than a normal baby. Still, we want him to be observed a bit longer. Yes we do."

He moved forward, fully aware that this was the closest he would get to having an heir. The child seemed docile for a Sayian infant. He stared down at the small bundle and blinked as it looked up at him with his own harsh gaze.

Then, from lungs smaller than Vegeta's own fist, it began screaming so loud the prince recoiled. "Woman! Silence the prodigy."

She cooed and began coddling it. "Prodigy, huh? So you acknowledge Trunks'll be exceptional."

"Of course. He's born of my genetics." The child wailed with renewed gusto. "Dammit it to hell, you wretch. Can't you control the creature?"

She huffed and shoved passed him. "Well, we'll chalk this up as your fault. He was very calm and perfect before you shoved your ugly mug into his face."

He felt it, though, as he watched Bulma walk off with his heir. The desire to take responsibility for the child. To take him as his and raise him along side the damned woman.

"Unacceptable."

He tracked down Dr. Briefs. "Old man, I require your services." The man in question sighed and faced the Sayian. "How soon can the ship I train on be ready to leave this backwater hunk of rock?"

"As in, you're going to take the ship and train off world?" Vegeta nodded, brow furrowed at the man's enthusiasm. "I'll run diagnostics now. It won't be more than two days, tops. You'll have to stay out of the gravity chamber while I get it ready, though, or it will take longer. Do you understand?"

Vegeta glowered as the old man nearly sprinted from the office. Strange as that was, there was Bulma's total disregard of him now that she had their son to occupy her time. She didn't inquire about his training and managed to barely acknowledge him the few times they were same room together.

True to his word, the doctor had the ship fuelled and ready in two days. Two days of being left to his own devices with nothing to distract him from his child was enough to drive him to insanity. Sayians were not inherently prone to nurture their young. If time was spent with progeny, it was for assessment and training. The earthlings were clearly making him soft.

"I'm leaving."

Bulma hummed, unconcerned and continued nursing her son. He actively forced himself to consider the bundle as hers. With his declaration made, he left the simpering woman to coddle and coo as she pleased.


End file.
